Fallen
by Andromeda Prime
Summary: Wildly AU TF:Prime. "All I have now to give you is my undying love. I promise I will protect you until the end of my lifetime. And, I swear on my spark, we will get your rightful kingdom back." Rated M for slash and mechpreg. See author's notes at beginning of chapters for other warnings. IN-PROGRESS.
1. Endless

**I remember I had the first chapter for this put up way back when I had just started out, but I ended up deleting it for various reasons. Well, it's back up here again :) The story **"Echoes and Empires" **by **Eisee does it **got me to try my hand at writing this again (by the way, if you haven't read that story yet, go read it now)**

**Warnings for the usual: **slash **and** mechpreg **(I'm **_**think **_**I'm sensing a pattern here). Any warnings that aren't mentioned here will be put in later chapters.**

.-.-.

The view from the citadel was amazing by day. The citizens looked so tiny, the skies were clear over the horizon. Cybertron's sun bathed the planet in light and warmth, making the entire world glint and shine.

By night, it was a sight that was beautiful. Lights and flowing energon rivers lit the world before them, under them, bathing the empire in a blue glow. From their tower and balcony you couldn't hear the noise, but you need only look down to know that Cybertronian nightlife was in full swing. The entire world seemed endless, to go on forever.

Smiling, the mech raised his helm to the cool night air that breezed by his faceplates, shuttering his optics and allowing his muscle cables to relax. It had been a busy day for him and his mate, meeting with the leaders of all of Cybertron's city-states. All he wanted was to retire to his quarters to for some quiet time and to watch the world go by.

"How are you faring, Orion?" A servo slipped around the Royal Consort's waist, which he instantly recognized as that of his mate, the Emperor of all Cybertron. Megatron.

Lipplates nuzzled his audios, eliciting a few undignified noises from the Royal Consort's vocalizer. Orion pulled away, laughing gently and raising a servo to his sparkmate's faceplates. "I'm well, my love. Why do you inquire?"

Cupping the smaller mech's helm in a large and clawed yet tender servo, the Emperor leaned down and planted a kiss to his sparkbonded's lipplates. "You were becoming very anxious and tired today in the meetings."

"Do not fret, Megatron," Orion smiled. "I am always like this, am I not? You know well that I would rather have an audience of books, like in my library, than that audience of governors from your city-states. I find a large crowd of others to be taxing."

The Emperor chuckled and drew the red and blue mech into his arms. "Thank you for your honesty and sincerity." He stroked the side of his sparkmate's helm, looking at him with utmost love and affection in his light cerulean optics. "You do not have to attend these meetings with me any longer, if you wish not to. I am giving you the choice I wish I could have."

Orion smiled and leaned forward, resting his helm on his mate's broad chassis over his spark. His own life force twisted and flared, reaching out for the other half of it. "And thank you for your offer. But I am your mate. I will suffer through all upcoming meetings with you. It is the least I can do for my Emperor."

"To everyone else, I am Emperor. To you, and only to you, I am your sparkmate. I pledged my undying love to you so long ago." Another cool breeze enveloped them. Megatron turned his face to the wind and smiled. "It comes from Polyhex. Prowl informed me that there was a cold snap on the way, coming to Iacon up from Polyhex. Do you see the mountains, Orion?"

Turning his helm the smaller mech looked out over the Manganese Mountains that jutted into the horizon. The starry sky stopped just over the mountains, the stars many lightyears away having been blocked out by a curtain of darkened clouds that heralded the cold front. "Yes, my love. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Very." A satisfied smile crossed the silver mech's faceplates as he turned his entire frame towards the mountains, placing his servos on the railing of the balcony. "This entire planet is full of so much beauty. This planet that I inherited from my creators. That they inherited from my Sire's creators. From Sire's Carrier, and stretching so far back into history that I cannot begin to count."

"This planet," Orion reached out and grasped his mate's clawed and large servo in his smaller, more elegant one, "that our creation will one day inherit from us. From you."

"Yes. It seems the wind is far ahead from the clouds, Orion." Megatron nodded at the darkening sky above the mountains, the pitch-black clouds growing larger against the deep blue night sky. "Come. Let us enter our quarters and close the balcony before we get too frigid."

Orion looked down below, at the nightlife still in full effect. People going to and from clubs and restaurants, talking, laughing, enjoying themselves. He knew that Prowl would have a message broadcast to the affected areas about the cold front. The Royal Consort entered the quarters, closing and locking the balcony doors behind him and drawing the room-darkening drapes. Before he could turn around he found himself swept off his pedes and into strong arms. When his systems righted themselves he looked up and into the blazing blue optics of his bondmate. The cool air around him was suddenly rife with heat. Lust was the most prevalent emotion he could see in the Emperor's optics.

Raising a servo and chuckling, Orion said, "You can never keep your servos off of me for long, can you?"

Megatron looked at his mate with lustful optics, allowing a rumble of desire to burst from deep within his chassis. He spun around and headed for the ornate berth, depositing his mate onto it and growling, "You have no idea what you do to me, do you Orion?"

Orion's gentle laughs became soft moans of pleasure as the silver mech began kissing and nipping his way down his frame, setting off all his hot spots. He hissed and groaned as the Emperor, the ruler of all of Cybertron and the most fearsome mech with a beating spark, opened his interfacing panel and began ravishing him. "Please," he moaned, arching his helm back and sighing. "Don't stop, my love."

.-.-.

**Short, I know. We'll see if these two start cooperating enough for me to write something of a decent size. Reviews, please?**


	2. Library

Sunlight managed to pierce through the small gaps between the darkening curtains, cutting through the darkened quarters like a blade to protoform. The morning shine fell upon the optics of the Royal Consort, getting through to his optics through the rather thin optic covers. Orion squinted his optics and brought a servo up to his optics, covering them and mumbling nonsense. He tried to turn over.

"Augh!"

That woke the Royal Consort up. He lifted himself up on his arms and looked over his shoulder at his mate, having elbowed the Emperor in the faceplate. Megatron had a servo to his cheek, rubbing at where his mate had inadvertently hit him. "I'm sorry! Are you-"

"I am fine. I have endured far worse injuries. It was merely a surprise," the silver mech assured his bonded, smiling at him. Orion smiled back, but didn't lose the concern in his optics. He moved his lower frame and became aware that they had yet to disentangle themselves.

"Megatron, your spike."

The Emperor was confused for a moment, then remembered. He placed his servos on his sparkmate's hips and gently drew his hips back, shivering as his spike was released from the warmth of Orion's valve and exposed to the cool air. Replacing both their interfacing covers, Megatron pulled the smaller mech towards him, his front to Orion's back, and gently stroked his mate's chassis. The Royal Consort felt his spark flare and reach out for the servos stroking above it, wanting to twine with the other mech's spark.

Not right now, Orion told himself, sighing in pleasure. His neural net still tingled from the two intense overloads he'd had the previous night, one brought on with only his mate's glossa, and the other from his spike. He shuddered and sighed, arching his back as much as he could in his mate's embrace.

The Emperor kissed the Consort on his neck cables and drew back, getting off their berth. "Prowl and Shockwave are waiting for me. More debriefing."

"The rebellions?"

"Indeed." Orion didn't have to turn over and look at his mate to know that Megatron had his lower lip curled. "I give the entire populace freedom to worship, to choose their occupations, choose their mates, freedom to do as they well please, yet they want to take my rightful kingdom away from me." This time the Consort did roll over in the berth and stare at his bonded with tired blue optics. "An Emperor's work is never done," Megatron sighed. He stared off in the direction of the drapes for a moment, before leaning down and kissing his mate on the lips.

Orion raised his servo and patted his sparkmate's cheekplate, smiling at him as he left.

The Royal Consort stayed in the berth for a while longer, waiting for the leftover overload charge to dissipate from his frame. Orion stretched and arched his back, a smug grin on his faceplates. He then managed to get off the berth and head over to the balcony, parting the drapes slightly. The light that streamed through pierced his optics and made him flinch and blink. The Royal Consort left it as such and exited the Royal Berthroom, making his way down the ornate corridor to the Royal Library.

If he could chose to be in only one room for the remainder of his lifecycle, he wouldn't pick the berthroom. He would pick the library.

The Royal Consort swung the doors open and stood in the doorway for a few moments, closing his optics and sighing before opening them to take in one of the few sights that he looked forward to each solar cycle.

Datapads on shelves stacked high, higher than three of him standing on each other's shoulders could reach. Organized by name of subject matter. Small benches and seats in little corners. In the middle of the large and spacious room was a desk with datapads stacked high. The desk of the Royal Librarian.

That would be him.

Orion Pax took his place behind the desk and grabbed the first datapad off the ridiculously high stack, making a mental note to separate it into two smaller stacks and filing it away for later. He activated the datapad and skimmed through the words. It was one he'd edited the day before yesterday. He set it aside and grabbed the next one, reading through it.

_-"The Emperor Nitrix's mate, Echo, birthed three sparklings. Their first issue was a mech by the name of Zolgas, the firstborn and heir to the throne of Cybertron. A femmeling they named Synapse followed Zolgas thirteen stellar cycles after. Twelve stellar cycles after Synapse's arrival, the Royal Family was saddened by the stillbirth of a mechling named Lodestar."-_

The Royal Consort and Librarian drew a line through the name Lodestar. It was a far outdated translation of the dead mechling's name, far older than a good nine out of every ten Cybertronians. He wrote the name "Cynosure" above it, the newest iteration of that designation.

When he was done making edits to all the datapads that held the history of his mate's family, the family he was now a part of, he would compile the revised data and begin the task of rewriting the history of the Royal Dynasty into brand new datapads.

It would take a long time. There was chance that he would not finish.

Orion paused and looked toward the ceiling, thinking of his predecessor, the generous mech by the name of Alpha Trion. The mech had been his mentor, friend, and foremost, his parent. As far back as Orion could remember, the kindly and wise mech had always been there, raising him to be the mech he was now. He had been little, not yet ten stellar cycles, when Trion had taken him to his work, this exact room.

Even at a young age Orion knew he was destined to follow his foster-creator's footsteps.

Alpha Trion had taken ill one day, after changing roles from foster-creator to mentor many stellar cycles prior. His last words to Orion were, "Keep doing my work, my son and my apprentice. I now pass the duties I have upheld for so long to you."

Orion closed his optics and smiled at the thought of his deceased creator and friend. Mentor. He shook his helm of the past and dove into the present, continuing with his reading.

_-"Historians of the time do not know the precise location of the burial place of the 9__th__ generation of the Royal Dynasty. The location was never recorded in the annals of history and has been lost to the ages."-_

'_Which is why I like to record everything if possible,' _Orion thought to himself. He would never go looking for the graves of Nitrix and her family, but such a lost piece of the past weighed heavy on him. The librarian sat back in his seat and smiled, chuckling at himself. He imagined another Royal Librarian, many, many stellar cycles after he and his mate had passed into the Well, pondering the lost mysteries of the past. Would his and Megatron's gravesites be lost? Lost to history?

He hoped not.

Orion put an extra space between that last paragraph and the next one, marking it in case he came across the information at some later date around here.

The red and blue mech chuckled at his job. Three solar cycles after the passing of Alpha Trion, he'd reported to the citadel for his first day as the sole Royal Librarian. No help. Nothing. It was just him.

He had been busy cleaning up the room and organizing the datapads when a tall and imposing gray figure had made his way into the library, with a white and black winged mech at his side and a deep violet mech standing just outside.

"_Librarian," came the voice of the silver mech that the red and blue mech recognized as the ruler of all Cybertron. "We are in need of assistance."_

_Orion Pax blinked at them in confusion from his place atop the ladder, fixing a datapad that had been inserted upside-down. He nodded and replaced the pad before stepping down to the floor. "How may I be of service," he turned and bowed to the Emperor Megatron, "my Emperor?"_

_It was quiet and still for a good moment, before the silver mech and ruler of all the planet cleared his vocals and said, "The governors of the city-states of Cybertron are to arrive tomorrow for the annual meeting. I am well acquainted with the histories of Praxus and Kalis, but I require datapads on the histories of Vos, Stanix, and Polyhex. Particularly on the lineage of the governors."_

"_Your wish is my command, Emperor Megatron," Orion half-mumbled, screaming at himself internally for messing up, before he turned and headed for the shelves that held the information that the silver mech had requested._

Orion had expected that that would be the last he'd see of the Emperor for a good long while. He was known to prefer to spend his free moments sparring in the basement with his warriors, so he'd been surprised two solar cycles later, the day after that meeting, to see the silver mech wander in to return the datapads and request to read the histories of Praxus and Kalis. Orion had arched an optic ridge, but complied.

It soon became every other day that the Emperor wandered in, looking for datapads to read. Instead of leaving the library he would settle himself on a seat in a far corner. Orion would look up from his work (or down, if he were on the ladder) to find Megatron looking at him. When their optics met the Emperor would turn away.

He thought nothing of it, even when he began hearing rumors that Megatron had been feverishly turning down offers of bonding from high-ranking political officials and well-known Cybertronians. Snickers abound behind raised servos, along with whispers that the Emperor had been smitten with one of his staff.

Orion had thought it was Jazz, the Royal Event Organizer. That mech was blessed with a wonderful figure. Then he remembered that Jazz was bonded to Prowl.

It came as a complete shock when Megatron came into the library almost a full stellar cycle into his tenure as Royal Librarian and asked him if he would mind staying a little after his work shift. All the whispers made sense.

If you had told him then that he would be bonded to the Emperor, his love, and he'd become the second most powerful Cybertronian of this age, he would have laughed at you and asked if you had ingested some funny energon.

He wondered how Alpha Trion would have reacted. He was sure he'd have been happy.

_::Orion?::_

_::Yes Megatron?::_

_::The debriefing is over and I am in the mood to wander about the Royal Gardens:: _the Royal Consort noted the tired tone in his voice._::Do you care to take a walk with me?::_

Orion smiled and made a last edit to this datapad before shutting it off and leaving it where it lay, a reminder to continue with it later. _::I'll be there in a bit, my love::_

The Emperor purred over their bond.


	3. Gardens

The Royal Gardens were at the southern side of the citadel, well closed off from any prying optics. Orion wandered in and found the Emperor seated on a small bench, twisting a small bit of deep blue crystal with violet flecks between his digits. The red and blue mech stepped over to his mate and sat down next to the silver mech, reaching over and touching the crystal.

"How was it?"

Megatron sighed and pulled his mate closer, wrapping an arm around him and holding the crystal up with the other arm. Cybertron's sky was clear this day, with their sun shining brightly. The light shone through the blue and violet crystal, casting the colors on both their armor. Orion reached up and took the shard from his mate's servo as the Emperor replied, "Even now, eight stellar cycles after our courtship began, there are those who don't seem to have accepted it."

"Megatron?"

"I assumed the debriefing would be on the subject of the small uprisings in the Badlands. There was nothing mentioned about the grumblings of rebellion. Prowl brought forth news that the governor of Simfur still holds his Emperor in contempt for turning down the offer to bond with any of his three sons or four daughters."

"What does he say?"

The Emperor scoffed and narrowed his optics at the patch of crystal garden just across from them. "Due to my rejection of his children, other governors and nobles looking for mates for themselves or for their children do not inquire about his own. I have somehow given them all the impression that Thuban's seven children are 'undesirable'. As such, he is demanding that I cast you aside to marry one of his children."

Orion closed his optics, inhaled sharply, and exhaled. Who was he to think he could order the Emperor around? "Will you?"

"Orion, you met them all. Do you honestly believe I would do such a thing?"

He remembered Thuban's seven children, and not fondly. The sons, Castor, Pollux, and Regulus. The daughters, Alcyone, Bellatrix, Ursae, and Vega. Spoiled and pampered, never having worked a day in their life cycles. Such a scandal had emerged when Megatron declined all of them, as they were highly prized and said to be of great beauty. Orion had finally had the unfortunate chance to meet them at a formal gathering of all the city-state governors and their families, which he and Megatron had attended.

Bellatrix and Regulus had looked him up and down critically before loudly whispering to one another, "Our dearest Emperor turned us down for _him?! _Someone of no title and low-birth?!" Castor, Pollux, and Alcyone had whined about him not being beautiful while Ursae and Vega only scoffed at him.

Had Orion a cruel neural line in his frame, and not a care if he jeopardized the politics of Cybertron, he would have shouted for them to have their helms severed from their bodies and displayed at the front gates of the citadel. But he kept quiet and fled to the comfort of his mate. Now that he reminisced about that gathering, he had thought Thuban and his mate, Scorpis had tired of telling their children to behave and that was why they hadn't bothered to shush them.

The two of them had probably encouraged them to insult him, knowing that he was too timid to order them to be punished. A simple librarian that should have stayed in the library and left the Emperor to marry a pretty one.

Orion bit down on his lower lipplate and twisted the crystal between his digits. The regret and sadness he felt for his mate filtered through their bond, as Megatron looked his Consort in the optics and said, "And do not apologize for their actions. I chose to bond with you. You and I could not have foreseen the effects that our union would have, even all these stellar cycles later."

"All this trouble I have caused you, all because I am not of high-birth."

"Stop right now Orion. You are not at fault."

"You can tell me so until the stars burn out and the universe collapses into itself. No matter how many times you tell me so I will still feel this way."

Megatron sighed and looked at the pale azure sky above them, far lighter than either of their blue optics. "Well, whenever you feel such a way, just remember that I chose you to be my mate. Out of the many millions of Cybertronians, Orion," the Emperor reached his arm over and gently took his Consort's servo in his own large, yet gentle one, "I chose you."

The Royal Librarian and Consort looked down at their joined servos. His slender, black servo in the wide, large silver claws that were the Emperor's. His servos made for archival work, the Emperor's servos made for ruling and instilling fear, yet respect, in his populace. Orion gently squeezed his mate's servo, and smiled when Megatron picked their joined servos up, bringing Orion's servo to his lipplates and placing a gentle kiss atop the refined hand.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Orion whispered, scooting closer to his mate and leaning in, allowing strong arms to encircle him in a loving embrace. "What did I do to deserve you, my Emperor, the love of my life cycle?"

Megatron chuckled and kissed the smaller mech on top of his helm. "You managed to steal my spark."

"Hmm," Orion nuzzled his faceplates in his mate's chassis, sighing contentedly. "You picked a lowly librarian, orphaned at a young age and with no familial ties recorded, over high-ranked officials or one of their relatives, of noble birth."

"In the battle between you and any of Thuban's seven sons and daughters, all arrogant and incapable of talking about anything other than themselves, you emerged victorious."

Orion smiled and looked up, into his mate's optics. The silver mech returned the loving gaze in kind. The librarian swore Megatron purred in contentment, somewhere in that broad chassis of his.

"Come," Megatron took his mate's servo and stood from the bench, helping the librarian up. "I have no more obligations for the rest of the cycle and I am exhausted by the debriefing."

Getting to his pedes, Orion interlocked their digits and let himself be led. Before they entered the citadel again, the Consort looked back and saw a familiar face smiling at him from behind a tall, tall shard of green crystal. It was Jazz, eavesdropping.

::Were you not Prowl's mate, Megatron would have you punished for listening in on us:: Orion gently told the smaller mech over an encrypted communications link. The link buzzed and whined feedback at him for a moment as the other mech fumbled to link onto the correct frequency, and then he heard the reply.

::Ah, don' worry Orion. Shouldn' think our Emperor wou' dump ya. Have you seen how he looks at ya?::

::I wouldn't know, Jazz::

::Looks ah you like you're the one thin' in his life he's got alright::

Orion felt his grin spread even wider, and he gave the servo joined with his a gentle squeeze. Megatron squeezed back and looked at him, smiling at him.

::I greatly appreciate you telling me so, Jazz::

::No problem. Could use a boost to yer self-esteem ev'ry once in a while::

::Were you about to tell us something? You don't come and eavesdrop unless you are looking for a way to interject and share news with us::

::Nah, it can wait 'til later. You two go an' have fun::

The link cut off at the same time Megatron lifted him into his arms again, exactly as he had the night before. They had reached their private lift to their quarters, which Megatron entered and gave the command to go up. Orion chuckled and took the silver mech's faceplates in his servos, pulling him close for a deep kiss, smirking against the Emperor's lipplates as he heard and _felt _the mech purr, the noise deep in his chassis.

When the doors opened Megatron stumbled over to the berth and placed the red mech atop it, climbing atop him and nipping at his lipplates, moving down to his neck cables and to his window chassis. Orion moaned and placed a servo on his sparkmate's helm, closing his optics and surrendering himself to the pleasurable sensations.

.-.-.

**Sorry for being a tease guys, but I just had to end it here if I had any hope of updating this SOON. I promise a full-on smut scene comes later. Next chapter will have a bit more Jazz, and introduce some other characters. And hopefully will also be a little longer. I'm a bit pressed for time this week due to finals. The first half of next week will probably be a little busy too.**

**Reviews are much appreciated.**


	4. Surprise

"Jazz?"

The white-armored mech turned around, his visor glinting in the dim light of his workspace. He grinned at the red mech standing in the doorway, and then shut off the holographic screen that had been in front of him. "Emperor an' ya had a good time?"

"Shh!" It had been eight stellar cycles since their courtship began, and three since their bonding. Jazz gave the Royal Consort a knowing look. "Ya two've been togeth'r for eigh' stellar cycles. We know wha' ya both do."

Orion felt the temperature rise in his faceplates. He pursed his lipplates and fought against the grin that threatened to show on his faceplates, instead turning his helm away from the other mech and reaching out to look at the arrangements for the governor's gala that Megatron threw at the citadel every four stellar cycles to celebrate each city-state's newly sworn-in governors, be they newly elected or be it their umpteenth time attending. "How are the plans for the gala progressing?"

"Want'd to ask ya somethin'. How's Emperor Megs feel 'bout strobe ligh's?"

"Jazz, it is a formal event, not a sparkday bash."

If Jazz tried to elicit sympathy from the Royal Consort with the look he gave him, it didn't work. Orion had to stifle laughter at the defeated, yet comical expression on the smaller mech's faceplates. He only grinned and placed a servo on the white mech's shoulder. "But when the time comes around for the Emperor's sparkday festivities, I will put in a word about strobe lights to him."

The Event Coordinator perked up and grinned broadly, removing a datapad from his subspace and deleting something from the notes.

"Now, you had news, you said." Orion backed up slightly and leaned on Jazz's workdesk, smiling. "What was it?"

"Oh, tha'." Jazz looked around as if to ensure that no one else was listening in on them. After a few moments, he raised his servo to his helm and waved over a sensor that retracted his blue visor, revealing his lilac optics underneath. A broad grin crossed his faceplates. "'m spark'd."

Orion's optics widened. A moment later, his servos had lost their grip on the edge of the desk and he'd slipped, falling flat on his aft and bringing a few datapads along with him.

"Are ya 'kay?!" Jazz gasped, running over to the taller mech and reaching his servos out. Orion looked up and grabbed onto them, allowing the smaller mech to help him to his pedes. The Royal Consort shook his helm and cracked a grin. "I'm fine, Jazz. That was highly unexpected. So…you're sparked?"

Jazz nodded, the smile returning to his faceplates as he rubbed a servo at his abdominal plating. "Yep."

"When did you discover this?"

"Yest'rday. Wen' to the Hatch't for a check-up an' he foun' the lil' one swimmin' happily in meh." Orion had no idea it was possible, but the smaller mech's grin grew even wider. The grin rubbed off on him, and Orion found himself grinning.

"This is wonderful news, Jazz. How did Prowl react?"

"Oh. Prowler doesn' know yet."

"Who else is privy to such information, besides Ratchet, yourself, and myself?"

Jazz grinned broadly. "Just us three. Told ya 'cause I wan' ya ta be there when I tell Prowler. Wan' ta surprise 'im. An' I don' thin' I can handle both ya and my bondmate glitchin' at the same time."

Orion returned the grin, thinking of how Prowl would react to the news that his bondmate was carrying. Well, at least after he had woken up from his processor glitching and shutting down on him. The tactician would be elated, completely over both of Cybertron's moons, at the prospect of holding a little sparkling, a mix of him and his mate.

How those two had ever gotten together was beyond his mental reasoning. Jazz was outgoing, the epitome of extroversion, and he could chat up anyone from any caste about subjects as varied as the history of the universe to which contestant would be a front-runner to win a reality competition. Prowl was reserved, silent, and could go an entire solar cycle without saying a word.

"How far into the cycle are you?"

"'bout eight solar cycles in." Jazz had a dreamy, faraway look in his lilac optics, and the smile didn't leave his faceplates. "Ratch' said a gestation cycle takes 'bout sixty-five solar cycles."

Neither of them could stop smiling. It had been so long since a sparkling had toddled along the halls of the citadel. The last ones to have their little pedes pit-patter on the floor were the twin sons of the royal medic, Ratchet, and his bondmate, the weapons specialist and trainer and bodyguard to Megatron, Ironhide. Orion fondly remembered being much, much younger and chasing after Sunstreaker and Sideswipe when he hadn't needed to help out Alpha Trion in the libraries.

Now, they were on the cusp of maturity, about to get their very last frame upgrades.

Jazz stepped forward and pulled the consort into a tight hug, sighing wistfully. Orion returned the embrace and gently rubbed his friend's backplating between his doorwings as Jazz mumbled, "'m so happy, 'n I know Prowler will be too. We'd tried a long time for a sparklin', 'n now we got one."

"And Primus knows you both will be wonderful creators." Then Orion noticed that Jazz was shaking slightly, doorwings trembling. "Jazz, are you crying?"

"Nah," Jazz quickly released the royal consort from his embrace and turned around, back facing Orion. "Just bit a dirt in mah optics."

"Uh-huh, if you say so," Orion grinned smugly and placed a servo on his friend's shoulder. "I'll leave you alone. Alert me when you are going to break the news to Prowl." A smirk tugged at his lipplates. "I want to record his reaction."

"Heh, be a funny thing to show mine an' Prowler's sparklin' someday." Jazz rubbed his servo over his abdominal plating again. His smile could power Cybertron for half a stellar-cycle.

.-.-.

There were two names for the one thing that Ratchet hated with every fiber of his being.

The first name was destruction.

The second was what his twin terrors tended to leave in their wake.

Removing his servos from where he'd slapped them, over his optics, Ratchet shuddered at the knocked over tables and scattered datapads on the floor of the medical bay. He bent over and picked the datapads up, gathering them in his arms.

"Loo's like we got ah mess on our servos, Ratch," a playful voice came, followed by a servo slapping his aft, gripping and squeezing at the metal. Were this anyone else Ratchet would have dropped the datapads and whipped out his null ray, but this wasn't anyone else. The medic straightened himself up and dropped the datapads on the still-unscathed berth (all the berths in the medical ward were bolted to the floor). "Nee' help cleanin' up?"

"I feel that instead, we…and by that I mean _you_," Ratchet turned and poked his bondmate in the middle of his chassis, "should stop spoiling our sons and teach them to clean after themselves." He then remembered that he was not leading by example, and decided to dump the datapads on the floor again, sticking his pede in the pile and shoving them around.

"Ah, Ratch," Ironhide lifted himself to sit on the berth, drawing his sparkmate into his arms.

"Ah-ah-ah, I place the blame squarely on you. I seem to remember good old Hydrox and Rhodium telling me of all the mischief and havoc you caused as a sparkling and youngling."

"Ah Ratch', ah wasn't that bad. 'sides, think yer o'ersaggerating 'bout the twins. Think yer carryin' aga'n? Ya liked ta 'sagerrate when you were carryin'."

_Whap!_

"Ah!" Ironhide rubbed at his helm and glared at his bondmate. "Real good ah ya Ratch."

"Oh shush, be grateful it was only a datapad about the aftereffects of rust syndrome. I suppose next time you'd prefer to be hit over the helm with _The Encyclopedia of Ancient and Modern Medicine_?" Ratchet held up a datapad that was easily twenty times the weight of the first datapad.

"I'll shut it. Where'd ya get th' pad?"

"Subspace." Ratchet stuck both datapads back into there, smirking. "I knew that datapad would come in handy sometime."

"Yeh. Just don' hit meh wi'h that other one, 'kay?"

"Don't give me a reason to." The smile that Ratchet gave his bondmate equally irked him and made him want to jump him, take him and ravish him there in the medical bay. And he would have, if the doors didn't slide open to reveal their twin mechs.

"You two," Ratchet dropped a datapad onto the floor and glared at the twins, "made a mess and you two are going to clean it up."

Both creators watched as the oldest one, Sideswipe, tried to bolt, but the younger one casually reached out and grabbed one of his helm fins. Sideswipe yelped and flailed, and Sunstreaker only turned to look at him with a hint of disdain. "I'm getting punished for a mess I didn't even make. If I'm going down, you're coming with me," he hissed.

"Hey, you also dropped a datapad on the floor!"

"Compared to the twenty you dropped, aftwipe?"

"Fine," Sideswipe sniffled. Ratchet tried to hide his smug expression as the twins began gathering the datapads and cleaning up, and he failed.

.-.-.

"I simply fail to understand why the rebels think it necessary to use such brutality to inflict change."

"Haven't you noticed, Shockwave?" Prowl uttered dryly, reading the reports as they crossed across the screen of his workstation. Nine dead and a dozen others wounded in a suicide-bombing at the shopping centers of Kalis. "Violence is the to-go method now." He placed his datapad next to the main screen and flicked his digits across the screen, transferring the information from the workstation to the more portable device. "Violence gathers attention to their cause, whatever it may be, a lot quicker than non-violent, peaceful methods."

"What is their cause, may I inquire?"

Prowl briefly skimmed through the downloaded report. It was brief, merely telling the numbers of the dead and wounded, the location of and time of the attack. It only ended with "no one has yet come forward claiming responsibility for this attack."

But everyone who had been paying attention to the news of recent days knew who was at fault.

"The uprisings. A rebellion still simmering and about to boil over," Prowl tossed the datapad onto his desk and his doorwings lifted into a "V"-formation, the universal signal for all winged Cybertronians that they were agitated. "These dissenters will stop at nothing in their goal to depose our Emperor."

"Illogical. Our Emperor has done nothing of ill will towards anyone during his reign. The only reason an Emperor may be deposed is if they are insa-"

"Heya Prowler!"

Servos came and folded themselves over Prowl's optics, blacking out his vision. The tactician sighed and fought down the urge to smile as he said, "Jazz, if your intent was to take me by surprise, you should have called my name out after you blocked my visual field."

"I'll remember for next time, then."

Mercifully, the other mech removed his servos and light and vision returned to Prowl's optics. The mech turned around in his seat, opening his mouth to greet his mate in kind, and suddenly found himself with a lapfull of horny Royal Event Coordinator. Jazz nipped at his neck cables as Prowl tried to get him to stop, squeaking, "Jazz, this is not appropriate for our workstation, can't you wait until I am off?"

"Yeah, 'll wait for ya Prowler," Jazz smiled brightly, lifting a servo to pat at the top of Prowl's helm before standing up and leaving, happily skipping out of the room.

Shockwave stared at Jazz's retreating form for a brief moment before turning his optic to Prowl, watching the tactician stretch and hesitantly return to his work. How those two had gotten together and bonded in the firstplace was…

Illogical would be the word he would chose for it.

.-.-.

***facedesk***

**It seems like no matter what I do and how many times I watch Generation 1 over and over again, I always end up butchering Jazz and Ironhide's accents. I'll improve…hopefully.**

**My apologies for the long waits between updates, and the fact that this story is slow moving. It'll pick up pace slowly but surely, I promise :) As for the updates, they will come when they can.**


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